


Cult of Transformation

by K_Popsicle



Category: Doctor Strange (2016)
Genre: Cults, Established Relationship, Fire, M/M, Magic, Magical Accidents, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:21:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25743496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Popsicle/pseuds/K_Popsicle
Summary: Just another day of fighting evil, saving the world and magic going astray.
Relationships: Stephen Strange/Wong
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24
Collections: Battleship 2020, Battleship 2020 - Ocean Witch, Battleship 2020 - Yellow Team





	Cult of Transformation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HogwartsToAlexandria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/gifts).



Strange doesn’t mean to end up in the thick of a cult’s ritual to transform a giant stone statue into a living deity, but well, he ends up there. It’s not surprising at all, really, considering his life. But he’d rather not delve into this sort of thing on a daily basis.

The sorcerers in the cult are the kind that throw about any spell they can think of, and they’ve got a wide and rather peculiar selection of them. Strange would like to get a hold of their library out of sheer curiosity. As a result, though, Strange has to spend most of his time deflecting because he’s not quite sure _what_ some of these spells do but they don’t _sound_ good. Judging from the one cult member he sees burst into flames, stumble about the room lighting everything on fire in their wake, and die, Strange isn’t willing to go on trial and error.

“Don’t let them hit you,” he warns Wong, and Wong stops, mid-fight, to give him his most deadpan expression. Strange shrugs and keeps going -- it seemed like useful advice, but in retrospect, maybe a little redundant.

He performs a delicate dance between not catching on fire from all the embers falling about the room, deflecting attacks as they come at him, and trying to find something in the cultists' tome of magic that will clue him in to how to _reverse_ the statue's transformation. As he does this, the stones begin to move. It’s two stories high, with big fists and feet, and Strange does _not_ want to fight that thing if it becomes sentient.

“Strange,” Wong calls. He’s tied two of the cultists to their own altar below the statue but is starting to look harassed. Strange knows they need a better plan, and quickly, because there appear to be an unlimited supply of cultists charging in from the wings and the spell hovering over the altar continues uninterrupted.

Strange flies to Wong’s side and then, like a well-oiled machine, Wong takes over his defensive duties and Strange folds himself into a seated position to try something reckless.

“That had better not be what I think it is,” Wong warns as a wave of lava washes over his shields. He strikes back at that cultist with a glowing whip that sends the woman flying through the big windows.

“You have a better idea?” Strange asks as his hands weave through the pattern.

“I certainly don’t have a worse one,” Wong replies, but he doesn’t stop Strange, and that’s basically permission.

The cultists redouble their efforts -- or there are more of them. Strange doesn’t have the time to check, putting his faith in Wong to protect him while he works. “What will you transform?” Wong asks so he can clear a path, and Strange tries to make the ethical choice. But between a chair, a rock, a burning curtain, and a few other sundry pieces of nothing, there isn’t really anything ethical to think about. It’s more a question of what they can defeat more easily than a giant ancient rock.

Strange picks a wooden chest that’s not on fire to push the transformation spell into. It’s the most likely item to survive the spell past the initial transformation but if it becomes necessary they wont have as much trouble killing it as they would if it was made of metal or rock.

Strange gathers the spell in his hands, steps towards the altar to absorb the magics there, and then nods towards the chest and says, “There.” Wong judges him with his whole face but again doesn’t argue- which means he agrees. Strange is on a roll today. He’s thinking that, a note of self-congratulation to it, when he stands up, takes a step, and falls over. His Cloak catches him. Unfortunately, he lands on it with his hands outstretched, and the gathered magics work on contact.

In the blink of an eye his Cloak detaches from him and scrambles across the floor like an escaping bug. “Wong!” he shouts and the distress must be evident because Wong turns to look. “Don’t let it get away!”

After that there’s a scramble. The cultists realise what’s happened to their carefully constructed spell and attempt to capture the Cloak. There are any number of ways to transfer the energy back into their deity, but to regather that energy could take them months if not years. Wong and Strange however have a vested interest in stopping them from harming the Cloak whilst stopping the Cloak from escaping. Strange is touched that Wong doesn’t need to be told they must protect the Cloak in whatever form it ends as, but then, the Cloak has saved Wong’s life as often as Strange’s at this point.

Together Strange and Wong manage to corral the Cloak into a corner of the building, the cultists on the other side of their shields frantically throwing everything they have at them. The clock won't let anyone near it, lashing out at them if they try to move in and reverse -- or move -- the spell. So Strange is watching when lashing material becomes limbs, and limbs become flesh, and eventually it isn’t a Cloak anymore, but a human. Strange can’t actually tell their gender, or much about them at all as they blink up at him and adjust to having eyes.

“Alright.” Strange tries to think of a next step -- what does one do with a new person?

“Any bright ideas?” Wong demands, and Strange gives him a _look_ because fighting in front of newly transformed people seems bad form.

“You’re alright,” Strange tells the Cloak, but he fails to put the required emotions into it, because he’s actually… really bad at that part of it.

“Strange,” the person says, voice smooth and practiced. Strange isn’t sure what he thinks of that, but then the Cloak looks behind him and says, “Watch out!” Strange turns, goes to block, and a hand grabs the back of his neck and _lifts_. Wong, Strange is happy to see, gets included, and they hover over the cultists while their corner is ripped to pieces by a blast of fire.

“It can fly,” Wong tells him dryly.

“Levitate,” Strange counters, equally dryly.

“And it can hear you,” the Cloak pipes in.

Strange is just wondering what to do about the cultists who are still there when the local chapter of socerers arrives. The arrival of the new sorcerers seems to give the cultists the shove they need to abandon the fight, but the Cloak doesn’t set them down until after the room is cleared.

“You can’t keep them,” Wong tells Strange as he opens portals of water over the spot fires that remain.

“I thought you wanted to adopt,” Strange snarks back and the Cloak makes a pained noise of their own.

“I’m older than both of you combined, and I know far more about your sex lives than a sentient being should. Please don’t make this awkward.”

Strange rolls his eyes, and Wong chuffs a laugh.

“Wait, their what?” one of the big-eyed sorcerers asks as if surprised by what he’s heard.

“Sex life,” Strange enunciates slowly, clearly. Wong’s lips twist in a suppressed laugh. “Which is varied, expansive, and very through.” The sorcerer sputters at being told too much and hurries away, much to Strange’s amusement.

“So, how long do I have?” the Cloak asks brightly.

“As long as it takes Stephen to undo the spell -- so a month, give or take,” Wong answers.

“Three days,” Strange cuts in sharply.

“We’ll set a room up for you in the Sanctum while we wait.”

“I can do it in three days,” Strange argues, perturbed.

“Then you might want to get the book before one of the local sorcerers takes it as a suviorneer.” Wong nods his head to one who's inching closer to the tome, and Strange hurries to intercept.

“A week,” Wong tells the Cloak when Strange is out of earshot, “but he’ll take longer if he isn’t trying to show off.”

When Strange returns with tome in hand, he’s got a bounce to his step, already distracted by the challenge of separating the deity energy from the Cloak. Wong opens a portal to lead them home, their latest addition following bemusedly in their wake. Overall they’ve had stranger days.


End file.
